The Ebon Hawk’s regulated temperature and humidity didn’t feel so comfortable for the Tusken huddled away in the ship’s cargo bay, his tan rags tightly wrapped around his frame. Mrak had spent the entire night, or at least what he interpreted as a night aboard the ship, in the depths of the cargo hold rather than join the other jedi recruits in the cramped barracks. The thought of shedding his robes and sleeping in a single room with a group of strangers sent chills down his spine, though that might have been from the ship’s temperature as well. Although Thul had done his best to acclimate the Tusken to modern civilization, Mrak’s tribal customs still persisted. Exposing bare flesh to anyone who wasn’t your mate within the confines of your own tent was a death sentence in Tusken culture, and Mrak could barely stand to go without his mask, let alone his robes. No, Mrak would rather freeze to death in the cargo bay than break his old habits; it was too much of a shock for him to handle. Upon initially boarding the Ebon Hawk on Tatooine, the young Tusken eagerly explored the ship in awe, examining the engine bay in particular, though was completely unfamiliar with the system. The most advanced piece of machinery he ever operated was a small speeder, and Mrak was fascinated by the idea of a “speeder” this large. His infatuation was quickly cut off, however, when he found himself in the cockpit as the ship took off into the atmosphere. The pilots had a good laugh when the Tusken ran in terror as the ship left the ground. After this incident, he became even more reclusive.

[b]”We’ve now landed on Dantooine,”[/b] a voice declared seemingly from nowhere. Mrak searched for the source, fearing his hiding spot was compromised, but couldn’t find anyone. [b]“Please gather your things and head to the docking ramp.” [/b]After a couple more minutes of exploring the cargo bay, Mrak figured the person must have left, so he decided to simply follow their instructions. He grabbed his bag, filled with his armor and various other belongings, and made his way towards the landing bay. Although he only ventured through the ship for a brief time before retreating to the cargo bay, Mrak knew exactly where to go. His sense of direction was uncanny, developed from years of trekking through the endless desert landscape. At the ramp, Mrak was met by the other recruits, a wide variety of species from all reaches of the galaxy. The Tusken kept his distance from them, as he was completely unfamiliar with almost anything other than native people of Tatooine. With a hiss of the hydraulics, the ramp lowered, letting in a gust of warmer air and much needed natural light. Here, Mrak was one of the first off the ship, eager to get his feet on familiar ground. When he hit the landing pad, however, the world around him was anything but familiar. The first anomaly Mrak noticed was the world’s lack of a second sun; it felt cold without it, and dark. The climate, while warmer than the ship, was still uncomfortable for the Tusken. He sighed, immediately longing for his harsh homeworld. The architecture of Dantooine struck Mrak as curious as well; why were these buildings constructed of metal and concrete, rather than clay, like the great cities of Tatooine? They failed to complement blend into the surrounding environment, a sweeping green and yellow landscape. He had little time to take in the world before the group shuffled off, and he trailed behind, his eye still observing every minute detail of Dantooine.

Upon entering the dormitories, Mrak tossed his pack into the nearest empty room, hoping no one would join him. Seeing a bed positioned across from his made him uncomfortable, knowing that he might have a roommate, but it was better than the barracks on the shio. The idea of segregating housing based on gender struck him as odd, but he made no complaint. Mrak followed the jedi with the other recruits to the council chambers, where he was introduced to his future instructors. He was unsure how a female, Briana, would be capable of training him in saber combat, since combat positions in Tusken culture are generally restricted to men, but Mrak knew he was in a whole other world now. Force training, he dreaded. Thul, his old friend, had attempted to teach Mrak the basics of Force “tricks”, but to limited success. The lore section interested the Tusken though, as he greatly enjoyed the stories his tribe’s shaman would tell; perhaps this would be similar. When he was handed a datapad, however, Mrak’s heart sank. He peered into the screen, which contained the strange symbols Thul identified as Basic. He had a rudimentary grasp of the written language, but the text on the screen was beyond his level. Mrak had faced challenges in the past, but always focused on physical, rather than mental strength. When Thul said he would be trained to become a great warrior, Mrak assumed it would simply be combat training, not history lessons. This would be a struggle, but the Tusken was certain he would prevail. He had to. Once weapon training was mentioned, however, Mrak’s spirits rose, and his confidence was restored. He needed the familiar feeling of a weapon in his rugged hands in the unfamiliar world. Before the group disbanded, a strange, furry creature raised his hand, and suddenly all eyes were upon him. The beast reminded Mrak of his bantha mount at home, and the thought of riding this sentient creature around the temple forced him to stifle a chuckle.